


on this night

by kalypsobean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2893178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>not a creature was stirring, not even a vampire</p>
            </blockquote>





	on this night

**Author's Note:**

> An [insmallpackages](http://insmallpackages.livejournal.com/) gift for 'Dean/Benny, something bittersweet and Christmas-themed'

Dean always knew, deep down, that what he had with Benny wouldn't last, even if it was Benny himself who failed. He understood it instinctually, in the same way he knew he would do anything for Sam and that John was fucked up but still loved him enough to make sure he was prepared for anything.

 

It has nothing to do with Benny being a more stable influence than Sam at the moment and pretty much Dean's only constant, meaning that karma or the universe or whatever angel had a grudge on this week would rip him away.

 

He finds Benny on the side of the road, not even bothering to thumb for a ride; he's walking with his head down and doesn't even seem to notice Dean until he pulls onto the shoulder and flicks the lights.

"I can't do this, brother, not in this world," he says, from the passenger seat. 

Dean pretends to understand; he turns up the tape and drives a constant ten miles over the limit until the gas meter is low and dawn is just starting to lighten the sky. Then it's a room in a motel, the curtains drawn and the door salted, and Benny on the king size bed, pale as a ghost.

Part of it's the shock, Dean knows, of losing his family yet again; he can identify, his fuck-ups lose him Sam over and over, and Benny hadn't even done it deliberately, so far as he can tell. Not that Benny's really talking, and Dean gets not sharing, but this is different; Benny's never been like this and they've both seen enough bodies, dead and bloody and torn, that if it was a problem, Dean would know.

Instead of talking, he strips to his tee and jeans and pulls Benny down on the bed. They used to sleep like this, before; if one moved, the other would know, so they'd be ready if something came on them. Benny lets Dean pull him close; Dean wishes it was so easy that he'd let his hands wander, innocent and daring, just low enough to say that he's here, he's okay to go that far, but Benny's never been like that. He's tense enough with Dean's arm over his waist, Dean's chest against his back, and Dean doesn't want to spook him.

He doesn't want to ruin it, and damned if he doesn't feel like this is the last time it will be like this; just them, simple and quiet, the rest of the world need not apply.

 

Dean wakes up alone but for a note scribbled on the inside of a Christmas card, slipped under the wipers on the Impala as if Benny knew he wouldn't leave if he came back in, out of the sun. It's even snowing, and Dean can see the last of Benny's footprints as they're covered over with new and melting snow.

He doesn't follow them; after all, Benny braved the sun to leave him. Dean has to respect that. 

 

His drive out of town is slow as he dodges kids on bikes and scooters all too clean to be anything but presents; he's still looking for Benny, but the shadows are empty, if they're there at all.


End file.
